That's Life
by MLaw
Summary: Some times things have a way of not working out, and in this case was it for the better or worse for Napoleon?  # 5 of the Solo-series


"**That's Life"**

.

He was wearing a charcoal grey smoking jacket as he seated himself at the elegant marble table in their suite in the hotel Monmartre located on the right bank in the north of Paris. A bottle of Chateau Lafite-Rothschild was warming, allowing it to mix and mingle with the air to breathe, letting the wine's aroma open up before he poured it into two delicately fluted crystal glasses.

The flames of the candelabra flickered nervously, casting an enchanting glow on the brunette's face as she sat across the table from him. Her milky white skin was warmed by the candlelight and her low-cut dress reavealed a cleavage worthy of Sophia Loren.

_Tamis Voudrais_ who was a Thrush operative, stared at him in the romantic light; her eyes two limpid, languid pools of blue. If he translated her last name literally, it meant _would_ and he had no doubt that Tamis _would _indeed from the hungry look he now saw in her eyes as he stared back into them while he leaned lazily on his elbow.

"Blue," he smiled, yes they are very blue, almost as blue as_..."oh,_ will you _excuse_ me for a moment? " Napoleon said hastily as he disappeared into the bedroom.

He grabbed a quilt from the bed and quickly shoved it through the double doors into the hands of his waiting partner, who stood out there shivering on the balcony dressed only in his boxers.

He could hear Illya's teeth chattering as Tamis' arrival had been unexpected and his blond friend had ducked outside there to hide from her. As soon as Napoleon had opened the door, the woman barged in, so there was no time for Illya to grab his clothes to dress, and the closet was too far away to hide in and the bathroom was out of the question, so the balcony was the nearest and fastest choice to keep from being seen.

"How long dodo you think you are going to take to wowoo said Thrush strumpet?" the Russian stuttered as he wrapped the blanket around himself for warmth.

Napoleon smiled, "One never knows, these things take time...sorry chum."

"Well at least you could have brought me a nice big glass of wine?"

"A _big_ glass of wine...Chateau Lefit-Rothschild isn't exactly something you serve that way."

"Bozhe moi_my God, I don't care about wine etiquette right now. _Chyort voshmi_dammit,_ I am freezing my _zhopa_ off out here."

"That's because tovarisch you have no meat on said _ass_. And I thought you Russians like the cold?

"Not while dressed only in our underwear," Illya growled, "Just get it over with please, and hurry?"

Solo cocked his eyebrows in response as he closed the doors in his partner's face, drawing the blinds closed across the window and leaving Illya on his own to wait in the cold evening air, knowing that he might have to _entertain_...what did Illya call her? A Thrush strumpet?

Napoleon laughed as that was a new one among the choice names Illya had for the femme fatales of the feathered persuasion. Now as to his partner's request, the word _hurry_ just didn't apply when it came to making love to a woman.

"_Napoleon_?" Tamis called with a lyrical tone to her voice.

He stepped away from the curtains trying to maintain his suave demeanor, even though she'd almost walked in on he and Illya.

"Sorry darling," he apologized to the brunette as he walked towards her where she stood in the doorway.

"Planning something special for me?" She sipped her wine. staring at him hungrily. "Perhaps we can continue our conversation in a more _comfortable_ position?'' She said nodding towards the bed.

"Mais bien sûr," he smiled charmingly.

"What?"

"What do you mean, _what_?"

"What did you just say?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I assumed you spoke French," he apologized, thinking that only Thrush would send a female operative bearing a French name to seduce him in the Parisian _city of love _and not be able to speak the language _._

" It means _but of course."_

"But of course what?"

"Good God, a feather-brained female Thrush." Napoleon mused to himself, Illya would have a field day with this one. He could just imagine the species and sub-species jokes that his partner would come up with ad-nauseum.

"Never mind, not important, " he practically purred to her, "I believe you were interested in taking this to the boudoir?" He knew that wasn't the correct terminology for the bedroom, as a boudoir referred to more of a ladies' private chambers but he always liked the sound of the word.

"Take it to the Boudoir? Do have to go somewhere...why can't we stay here?"

_"Oh boy,_ here we go again." he mumbled." Ever hear of _Abbot and Costello?"_

"Who?"

Napoleon's brow furrowed as he suspected as much. "Talk about a buzz kill?" he thought to himself as he finally grabbed her hand and simply lead her across the room before he lost complete interest in bedding her. But he needed to get the location of the satrapy from her some how and this seemed like the best route to take, lucky for him.

He turned on the light switch then pulled her into his arms, kissing her with as much passion as he could muster under the circumstances.

Then they heard it, a loud sneeze coming from outside on the bedroom balcony.

Tamis stepped back, drawing a pistol from her clutch bag and pointing it towards the doors.

"Who ever you are out there, step inside slowly or I shoot!" she yelled.

"Now wait a minute, let's not be hasty?" Napoleon stepped over to the curtains, drawing them back slowly as the doors opened and his frozen partner stepped in, still wrapped in the blanket.

Illya's face bore a pained look as he stood shivering in front of them.

"Drop the blanket." she ordered.

"Please, I would rather nnnot if you do not mind?"

"Do it or I will kill you." she said calmly.

Illya complied, standing there now shaking in front of her in his underwear.

She looked at him, then looked at the mussed bed, spotting Illya's clothes in a pile beside it on the floor, then she looked back at Napoleon.

"Oh my God, you perverts! And you were going to take _me_ to bed while he was out there? Were you two together in...you know" her mind jumped to conclustions. " And I thought you had such a great reputation with the women, Napoleon Solo? That's what I call a cover story, but now Thrush will know what you really are! To think, Napoleon Solo likes men? I alwas knew that Angelique was such a liar about you, no body could be _that _good?"

She backed away from them, still pointing her weapon as she headed back into the suite; grabbing her coat then making a hasty retreat out the door.

Napoleon's shoulders slumped as he realized he had just lost his last chance to find out where the satrap was.

Illya picked up the blanket, non-chalantly wrapping it around himself again then walked out to the suite as well, pouring the Chateau Lefit- Rothschild into a water tumbler and taking a gulp from it.

"Care to join me..._lover_ boy?" Illya jabbed.

"Very funny," Napoleon said as he raised his wine glass to his partner, the two clinking their glasses together in a silent toast.

"As funny as me being stuck on that balcony?"

"_C'est la vie_." Napoleon said, " hey you were the one who decided to run out there in your skivvies."

"And you were the one who took his sweet time with...with _that_ woman." Then Illya paused suddenly smiling, " who is now gong to besmirch your reputation with the ladies."

Napoleon wondered for a moment about that, but then decided he wasn't overly concerned and said so to his partner.

"Someone with my _charisma_...no worries there with the ladies. I've said it before, when you've got it...you've got it. And I have it." he smiled. Napoleon was exuding pure confidence.

"You may want to rethink that, as our feathered friends just might now send _men_ to seduce you instead of femme fatales of the genus Turdidae, especially if the bird-brained Miss Voudrais reports her opinion of your sexual preferences," Illya smiled, playing with the woman's name," and I think she _would._"

"_And_ yes, you are right c'est la vie..._that is life_. To illustrate that point, _you_ get the _love_ seat and I get the nice warm bed. Good night Napoleon." Illya gulped down the last of his wine then headed towards the bedroom dragging the quilt with him, intending to abandon his partner.

"Well my friend, the same probably holds true you."

"Napoleon, the question as to my sexual preferences it a moot point as the rumors about me are already quite prolific...I know they are untrue and therefore choose to ignore them."

Solo made a face at him. "Hmmm, you know what? I think I'm going down to the bar," he said, feeling a little uncomfortable now after his partner's pronouncement. "There was a cute strawberry blond cocktail _waitress_ there," he smiled, " After all I do have the Solo mystique to uphold.

Illya rolled his eyes as he closed the door.

.

Finis


End file.
